Life-experience
by the diggler
Summary: The one in which Crowley doesn't kidnap Kevin after Sam saves him from Roman Enterprises, and as a result Kevin goes home with a serious case of hero-worship. So when Sam finds a way to get Dean out of Purgatory, Kevin is more than willing to help, any way he can. (Sam/Kevin, fluff, smut, standalone or timestamp to my DCBB 'The Story of You and Me')


**Warnings**: sexuality issues, het pornography watching including double-penetration, cheating  
**Author's Notes**: This can be read as either a standalone fic, or a timestamp to my DCBB 'The Story of You and Me'. I never really intended the Sevin in that story to be a definite thing - it was mostly Dean's interpretation of what he was seeing, so it could go either way - but for those of you who liked the Sevin idea, here's more :)

* * *

Kevin doesn't know how long he's been sitting in front of his computer, unmoving, simply staring at the cursor blinking at him from under the large, bold title – _College Admission Essay. _The rest of the page is blank. Just as blank as it was the last time he opened the document, months ago.

Except _this_ time, the problem isn't that he has nothing to say, but that everything he could possibly say is so unbelievable, Kevin _still_ has trouble wrapping his head around the fact that it _all_ _actually happened. _It was only a few days, but those few days were so far removed from his life up until then, that he could almost pass it off as a bad dream. Even his mom acts like it never happened – though Kevin suspects that may just be some kind of default state she's clinging to in order to fend off losing her sanity altogether.

Kevin huffs in frustration, massaging his temples as the cursor continues blinking away – on, off, on, off… Maybe he could pass it all off as a work of fiction – _I was a teenage Prophet of the Lord_ – or something like that. And it would basically go like this – '_Had a seizure, skipped the SATs, stole my mom's car, drove to an Asylum in Indiana, to find a tablet inscribed with the Word of God. Was chased by a bunch of angels (and one demon), then kidnapped by leviathan (led by Dick Roman), then rescued by a hunter named Sam Winchester…_

_After Sam Winchester saved me, he helped me stop Dick Roman's evil plan to drug the North American food supply. Basically, Sam Winchester saved the world. Not for the first time either. And Sam Winchester will keep saving the world, even though he lost his brother Dean in that battle, because that's what hunters do. That's what heroes do…_

Kevin blinks stupidly at the empty screen, snapping out of his reverie. He feels his face heating up when he realizes where his thoughts have gone. _Again_. It's more than pathetic, but Kevin could easily write an entire essay on the topic of Sam Winchester alone.

Kevin sighs, pushing away from his desk and turning towards his cello. He finds himself playing it a lot more often these days. And not according to his perfectly planned study schedule either. In fact, he doesn't know why he even bothers setting the schedule anymore. It just doesn't seem important. Not now that he knows what's really out there. He knows the leviathan no longer pose a threat, so the protection of angels should be enough… but he still feels like he should be arming himself with holy water super-soakers or something. Or helping Sam find his brother, at the very least. But he's already translated the entire leviathan tablet, and Sam insisted Kevin return to his "normal" life. Which was kind of… _sweet_ of him.

Kevin squirms in his seat, launching into one of Bach's more challenging pieces. It does the trick, turning off his thoughts entirely, the repetition of movement and the resulting resonation of sound through his body, both familiar and calming.

So he doesn't immediately hear his phone when it rings. But when its treble-trill finally reaches his ears over the deep bass notes of his cello, he nearly drops his bow when he sees the name on the screen.

"…S-Sam?"

"Hey, Kevin."

"H-hey," Kevin stammers, stomach jumping a little at the sound of Sam's voice.

"You busy?"

"No!" Kevin replies hastily. "Just trying to write my College Admission Essay… and failing spectacularly," he mutters. Sam laughs at that, a warm, throaty sound that never fails to bring a smile to Kevin's face.

"Oh man, I remember what that was like – nothing to say, or too much to say, but nothing that won't get you locked up in an asylum – right?"

Kevin can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, exactly." Then something else clicks. "Wait, you went to college?" he asks. He never imagined Sam as wanting to be anything else than the hunter who regularly saves the world from the brink of disaster.

"Um… yeah, I went for a couple of years, but it didn't work out," Sam replies. Kevin thinks Sam sounds uncomfortable about it, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

"Where did you go?"

"… Stanford?" Sam answers reluctantly, like he's embarrassed about it or something.

"What!" Kevin explodes, nearly dropping the phone in surprise. "_Stanford!_ What happened? Why did you leave?"

"I… uh… the family business. You know," Sam mumbles.

"Oh," Kevin replies, still a little stunned. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's cool," Sam says, and Kevin can practically hear Sam shifting uncomfortably in the silence that follows.

But, _Stanford_. Wow. Saves the world on a regular basis, _and_ smart enough to get into Stanford. Is there anything Sam Winchester _can't_ do?

"So… um… What did you end up writing about? On the essay?" Kevin asks.

"…My brother," Sam replies.

"Oh," Kevin says softly. Sam is silent after that, and Kevin knows from experience that Sam just needs a moment to recollect himself. They've talked a lot over the past few months, so Kevin knows what Sam's brother means to him, and how worried Sam is about him.

At first, Sam used to call Kevin just to check in and make sure he was okay and alive and all. Not that Sam really _had_ to check in on him, while Kevin was supposedly under the watch of angels. But Kevin thought it was a nice of him, and he didn't mind. The guy saved his life after all.

Eventually, the more Sam called, Kevin started to suspect that Sam was just... _lonely_ without his brother. But by then, Kevin found he really enjoyed talking with Sam. And it wasn't always about monsters and demons either. Over the past few months, Kevin felt like they might have actually become friends.

"Listen, Kevin, about that – this isn't actually a social call," Sam says eventually.

"Okay?" Kevin says, both curiosity and dread piqued.

"I think I found a way to get him back," Sam says, voice picking up with excitement. "Both of them."

"That's great! …But?" Kevin asks, sensing the catch.

"I need your help."

~

Kevin swings himself out onto the ledge of his window, adjusting his backpack as he sweeps his eyes over his room one last time. Nothing seems amiss – the lights are off, his computer's asleep, and there's a decent body-shaped pile of clothes in his bed. If his mom comes in, it'll just look like he's sleeping. He'll have to call her eventually if he's gone too long, but he knows if he tries to explain where he's going to her face, she'll handcuff him to the sink or something.

His resolve falters when he turns around again though, taking in the drop from his second-story window and reeling back with panic. What was he thinking? Maybe he wasn't. Because he can't do this. He doesn't _do_ things like this.

Well, technically, he _has_ done this, at least once already. This is very different than simply walking out the front door and getting in his mom's car, however.

But… Sam Winchester saved his life. Kevin owes him.

Taking a deep breath, he reaches for the drainpipe next to his window, and tries not to look down. It goes surprisingly well, except for the part where he lands on his ass in the hedge below. But no one seems to hear the fall, or the yelp he makes when it happens, so he brushes himself off, and jogs down the street.

Sam is waiting for him the next block over, exactly where they arranged. The Impala's engine is too loud and recognizable for them to meet any closer to Kevin's house. His Mom may be in a state of denial, but it hasn't made her any less vigilant.

"Did you get away alright?" Sam frowns with concern, pulling a leaf out of Kevin's hair.

"Yeah, all good," Kevin flushes, self-consciously checking the long strands for any other debris from his fall.

Sam gives him a small smile then, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Thanks for doing this, Kevin. I really appreciate it," he says.

"Yeah, no problem," Kevin tries to smile back, but he thinks it probably comes out as a grimace.

As they set out towards Indiana, Sam explains a little more about the spell they need to perform. They worked out a while ago that Dean and Castiel were sucked into Purgatory when they stabbed Dick Roman. Since then, the problem has been trying to find a way to get them back out. Apparently though, Sam had once run into a pretty powerful witch who helped them with the leviathan before.

Sam tells him the whole 'War of the Starks' story – it's a long drive into Indiana, so they have the time. It's pretty gory, as most of Sam's hunting stories are, but it's a little funny in some places too. By the end of it though, Kevin's not sure if he's looking forward to meeting a being powerful enough to bind a leviathan all on his own. Sam seems reluctant too, but he's running out of options.

At least Sam is kind enough not to rehash the particulars of the potion they need to make for the spell. It was embarrassing enough on the phone, and Kevin can barely look Sam in the eye as it is. Instead, Sam does him the favour of asking about his Admission Essay again, and for a while they brainstorm possible ideas for Kevin to write about.

Out of curiosity, Kevin asks a little more about what Sam wrote. Which eventually leads to more questions about Sam going to Stanford in general. And then, of course, the whole painful story of why Sam left. It's harrowing enough just to listen to it – Kevin can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like to _live_ through it. But even though the story leaves him feeling a little sick in the pit of his stomach, he also feels a little privileged that Sam chose to share it with him at all. He doesn't know how someone who has lost as much as Sam still keeps going – still hunts evil and saves peoples lives – let alone laugh, or smile, or help some dumb kid with his Admission Essay. Kevin's life suddenly feels even smaller. And his chest hurts at the thought of how alone Sam must've been.

They lapse into silence afterwards, heavy with the weight of their own thoughts and contemplating the task before them, as the median-lines on the road seem to blink on and off under the Impala's headlights, like the waiting cursor on Kevin's computer back home.

"We're gonna get Dean back," he tells Sam at some point.

"Yeah," Sam grunts quietly in reply.

~

"Take off your clothes, please."

"…What?" Kevin yelps.

"I need to anoint you as the designated virgin to be able to use your… ingredients."

"…What!" Kevin shrieks again, backing away.

"Look, Kevin, why don't you go undress in the bathroom and Don will get you a towel or a robe or something?" Sam jumps in, de-escalating the situation.

"A robe. Right," Don huffs a miniscule, put-upon sigh. "Bathroom's up the stairs on the left," he says, leaving the room.

Kevin turns his still-wide eyes on Sam. "Seriously?"

Sam's expression turns sympathetic. "You don't have to do this, you know. It's alright," he says.

"No! I'll do it," Kevin blurts quickly. He's not going to let Sam down. "I was just surprised, that's all. I mean, we barely even walked through the door and some guy is telling me to take of my clothes," he explains.

Sam smiles at that, chuckling. "Yeah okay, sorry about that."

"It's cool," Kevin shrugs. "I guess I'll just…" he points towards the hallway.

"Sure," Sam nods. "And thanks again, Kevin. Really."

Kevin gives him a weak smile in return before heading up the stairs. He's lost count of how many times he's already told Sam it's not necessary to keep thanking him, especially when he hasn't really done anything yet. He knows Sam is genuinely grateful, but it's kind of putting a lot of pressure on him too.

He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself as he looks for the bathroom. He doesn't get very far before he runs into Don Stark again, and the man is handing him a soft white robe.

"Bathroom's right in here," Don tells him, flipping on the light. "Just yell out when you're done and I'll come in and do the anointing."

"In the _bathroom_?" Kevin asks dubiously.

"Yes? What's wrong with the bathroom?" Don replies, like _Kevin's_ the one who's just said something strange. Kevin looks into what he expects to be the kind of standard-sized bathroom you would find in any house, but finds the kind of bathroom you would see in an interior design catalogue. It's huge, and bright, and very, very clean, and Kevin gapes a little at the sight.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong the bathroom," he finally replies, stepping inside.

Don grunts in amusement, heading back for the living room as Kevin shuts the door. He still can't help but gape a little at the sheer size and shininess of the room, but he supposes it makes sense. Even in the middle of night, Kevin could see how big the house was when they pulled up.

Still, it's not what Kevin expected. He thought they would at least be going into a dark basement or something, regardless of whatever size it may be. Isn't that where witches usually like to go to conduct their secret… witchery?

Whatever.

Kevin folds his clothes, leaving them on the massive counter-top, and puts on the robe. It's even softer than it looks, and even more comfortable still, so Kevin figures it must be either really expensive as well, or laced with some kind of full-body relaxation spell. Maybe something to lull him into a sense of security. Because he kind of just wants to fall asleep in it. Not that he wasn't sleepy to begin with. It's pretty late at night after all. Late enough to almost be early…

Clearly, nothing is relaxing enough to shut off the neurotic ramblings of his brain. He's still pretty nervous. Even though Sam promised him there wouldn't be anything painful or permanently damaging involved. Just a little… adult-rated stuff. Still, Kevin can barely think about it without blushing, all over.

His anxiety flares again when Don steps back into the room, carrying candles and creepy old-looking bowls and an assortment of other witchy paraphernalia. Sam is right behind him, helping Don carry some of the required ingredients, and he must see the panic in Kevin's eyes because he tries to send Kevin a reassuring smile. Kevin can't deny that it works a little bit.

The spellwork itself is just like Kevin expected, even if the setting isn't – a lot of chanting, incense, and weird gooey fluids being mixed together in the near darkness. But it's when Don tells him to open his robe a little so the weird gooey fluids can go on his chest, that Kevin's mind blanks again, eyes subconsciously turning to Sam.

He's suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the thought of baring his chest in front of Sam. He already feels small enough, wearing nothing but a robe over his skinny teenage frame, and Sam – Sam is _tank._

Sam, of course, misinterprets the panic on his face, trying to encourage him with another smile, but this time it makes Kevin's stomach lurch a little. He takes a deep breath, trying to buck up, but the smile he sends Sam in return feels like a weak and trembling thing – Kevin _is_ a weak and trembling thing, if the way his fingers shake when he reaches for his robe are any indication. But open his robe he does, because he's committed to doing this, and he's not going to let Sam down.

He just won't look at Sam. It's easier that way. In fact, with his eyes closed, Sam's presence becomes less intimidating, and a lot more… comforting_. _But that's probably because Kevin wouldn't want to be left alone and half-naked with an extremely powerful 900-year-old witch either.

"Okay," Don says, suddenly ceasing his chanting. "All done," he smiles, patting Kevin on the shoulder.

Kevin exhales with relief, pulling his robe closed again.

"Now," Don hands him one of the antique bowls. "Fill this up with your jizz so I can get your potion started."

~

"This is retarded," Kevin mutters to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He's a young and virile teenager for crying out loud, getting off should _not_ be this difficult. But here he is, half an hour into it, and he can barely even get hard enough. He's already gone through the full spectrum of his spank-bank, imagining everyone from his girlfriend Channing to Megan Fox, to no avail. He just can't relax. This isn't just some bathroom wank like any other morning before school… this actually means something. It's a lot of pressure. And he's starting to chafe.

"Hey Kev?" Sam knocks on the door all of a sudden, making Kevin shriek like a girl, yet _again_. "You alright in there, buddy?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine!" Kevin yells through the door. "Everything's fine!" Although _clearly_, having two people standing right outside the door, waiting for him to finish, isn't going to help _at all._

"Okay…" Sam sounds dubious. There's heated murmuring behind the door as Sam argues with Don about something, but Kevin can't pick out what they're saying until Sam hisses, "What? No! Absolutely _not_."

Somehow, Sam manages to sound both angry and protective at the same time, and Kevin wonders if Sam is angry on _his_ behalf, for some reason. But he doesn't get to ponder that thought for very long though, because for _whatever_ reason, _that's_ when Kevin feels a strong throb of arousal between his legs.

"What the hell?" Kevin yelps, yanking his hand away from his cock like he's just been burned by it.

"Kevin?" Sam calls through the door, concerned. And it happens _again._

"Uh…" Kevin tries not to hyperventilate.

"Hey Kevin, why don't you go into the bedroom next door and try lying down. There's some things in the bedside drawer that may help," Don suggests.

"Yeah," Kevin nods frantically, "Yeah, thanks," he mutters, making a beeline for the door on the opposite side of the bathroom. Anything to put some distance between them.

The next room looks like some sort of guestroom. Well-decorated, as the rest of the house is, but blank of any personality one would find in a room that's actually being used. But again, Kevin's just glad it isn't a sex-torture dungeon. The normalcy of it calms him down a bit, and he takes the opportunity to sit on the side of the bed, and _breathe. _

It works, right up until the point he opens up the bedside drawer. There's a whole bunch of things in there Kevin never wanted to see with his own eyes, ever. The lube and condoms are normal enough, but then there's feathers and chains with little clamp things on the ends of them, and some long rubber objects that Kevin won't even chance looking at for too long, for fear of working out exactly what they are and what they might be used for.

He quickly shuts the drawer closed. Sex dungeons come in all shapes and sizes, apparently.

Kevin stands up off the bed, pacing the room and generally avoiding the drawer altogether. Unfortunately that puts him right next to the tallboy with the flatscreen on it… and the suspect dvds lying next to it. Looks like the entire collected works of Casa Erotica.

Kevin shrugs, turning on the tv. He doesn't _exactly_ intend to watch any porn. He just figures having some noise in the room will give him a little more privacy. But when Kevin turns it on, he discovers it's one of those tvs with a built-in dvd player, as it automatically resumes playing the disc already in there.

"_I've got the kielbasa you ordered…"_

Kevin cringes. Looks like the usual delivery-guy trope, and the actor has a seriously terrible handlebar moustache. But the girl is kind of hot, so Kevin takes the remote control and fast forwards through the bad-acting. When he presses play again, there's a lot less talking and a lot more action, so Kevin goes back to the bed, and gets comfortable.

It works to some extent, but not so much because of what's happening on-screen. Which is just pathetic, because it's not everyday Kevin has the chance to indulge in some guilt-free porn. Instead, it's the illusion of privacy that helps, as he thought it might, the low volume of the tv masking his own soft little sighs and bitten-down moans.

But then, halfway through the movie, a handyman walks in on the couple, making it a threesome. The actor has unfortunate porn-hair as well, just this side of too long, but he's tall, and insanely well-built, and for some reason that really does it for Kevin… Until he starts wondering exactly why that is, and starts freaking out about it.

That's when the handyman goes for the double-penetration, taking the blonde from behind while she rides the room-service guy. And that _can't_ be comfortable. But the blonde seems to be loving it, if the kind of sounds she's making are any indication…

Kevin bites his lip, spreading his legs and reaching further down… and gasps. Loudly.

Logically, he knows there's a lot of nerve endings down there, so the area _should_ be sensitive. But knowing a thing and experiencing a thing are two completely different things.

He didn't expect it to feel so… _good_.

Kevin slowly applies some pressure, pressing his finger against it, and _yeah_… that feels good too.

Then to his surprise, the little ring of muscle gives a little, and the tip of his finger pushes in, just like that.

Kevin quickly pulls his hand away, staring at it in shock. He certainly didn't expect that to be so _easy_ either. It wasn't even painful.

But then Kevin has the super-gross thought that if things can come out just as easily, then maybe putting things _in_ isn't as difficult as it seems.

But yeah, that's a _super_-gross thought, and a total turn-off, so Kevin finds himself right back where he started, unable to get off, and now freaking out that he might be a little gay after all.

And of course, that's when there's another knock on the door.

"Kevin? You alright?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, Kevin, you need a little help or something?" Don asks.

"What? NO!" Kevin shouts.

"No, Don! I already told you that's not happening," Sam sputters indignantly on his behalf.

Kevin groans, slapping his hands over his face in mortification.

"Look, Kevin, we don't have to do this tonight, okay?" Sam says. "We'll try again some other time."

"Sorry, guys, no can do. It's got to be under a crescent moon. It's a virgin thing," Don explains.

"Then we'll just wait another month," Sam shoots back.

"No! No, I'll just keep trying," Kevin says guiltily. He doesn't want to be the one responsible for leaving Dean and the angel in Purgatory for another whole month. Who knows what they're going through there?

"Fine," Don says. And then to Kevin's horror, the door clicks open, and Sam is being thrown unceremoniously through it.

"Don!" Sam yells, immediately turning around to bang on the door, which has been magically locked shut again.

"Hey, I never said it had to be me!" Don yells through the door. "Just remember the rules or the ingredients are no good!" he adds, before his footsteps can be heard walking away.

Sam heaves a frustrated sigh, crumpling in defeat. When he finally turns around again, red-faced with embarrassment, Kevin is huddled into a ball on the farthest corner of the bed, robe wrapped tightly around his body, lube and tissues scatters all over the bed and the tv paused on a shot of the tall, muscular, handyman plowing his dick into the blonde's tiny rear.

For a long, awkward moment, Sam just stands there, face turning even more red as he takes in the situation. Kevin wonders if he might actually even pop a vein when his eyes land on the tv screen, but then all of a sudden Sam deflates, huffing an amused laugh and shaking his head with a little smile.

Kevin has no idea what Sam must be thinking of him right now. Hell, he's barely even able to admit it to himself.

"…Rules?" he finally manages to squeak, recalling what Don said before.

Sam takes a deep breath, straightening up to look at him again. "I'm _really_ sorry about this," he says ruefully.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Kevin replies in a small voice. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's _nothing_ wrong with you," Sam replies, earnest and sympathetic. "This is just a really weird situation, okay? And you don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

"No, I _want_ to do this," Kevin replies. And maybe not just because Sam saved his life.

The sigh Sam heaves then is somewhat resigned. "Okay," he nods, apparently coming to some kind of decision. "Okay," he says to himself again, stepping towards the bed.

Kevin's brain short-circuits so hard, he doesn't even yell or freakout or try to cower even further away. He can only watch, in stunned silence, as Sam sits on the side of the bed, toes off his shoes, and lies down, facing him.

"Wha… What are you…?" are the only words Kevin manages to get out, still breathless with shock.

"Close your eyes," Sam says, and Kevin finds himself nodding, so dumbfounded he closes his eyes without hesitation. His pulse races, blood rushing in his ears, and he can barely seem to catch his breath, each inhale too shaky and fleeting to hold on to for very long.

And then he feels Sam touch him. Just lightly. On the back of his hand.

Kevin nearly jumps out of his skin.

But Sam keeps touching him, fingers sliding across his skin to slowly encircle his wrist, and Kevin finds himself calmed by the touch, soothed by it. Sam tugs him forward then, urging him to unfurl from his little corner and gently guiding him closer, getting him to lay down with light little nudges. Kevin can't help but open his eyes a few times as he readjusts his position, but as soon as he sees Sam his eyes instinctively close shut again, too overwhelmed by what's happening.

"Good," Sam murmurs when Kevin's finally stretched out. "Just try to relax," Sam whispers, and for a few moments they just lay there, comfortable in the silence, listening to each other's breathing. Kevin finds his own breath slowing down as he relaxes, subconsciously trying to match Sam's pace. He can even feel the heat from Sam's body, warming the air between them.

Then, after some movement from Sam's side of the bed, Kevin hears _the drawer_ being opened. He sucks in a nervous breath at the sound, but then he hears Sam chuckle under his breath, and he relaxes again. It's reassuring to know that Sam finds the drawer's contents as ludicrous as he had. It means Sam's probably not going to be interested in using any of it.

But to Kevin's horror, he hears Sam rifling through the drawer, and _pulling things out. _Kevin's eyes fly open in panic, and when Sam rolls over again, Kevin can't help but back away a little.

"It's okay," Sam murmurs, "I'm just going to make things a little easier on you," he smiles softly. And goddamnit, this time, when Kevin's stomach jumps, he knows _exactly _why.

His face heats up even more, throat thick as Sam approaches him with some kind of satiny material in his hands. "Close your eyes," Sam whispers again, and Kevin obeys, unable to even think not to. And soon he feels the material slide over his eyelids, being tied around his head.

Kevin sags with relief. For some reason, the blindfold takes some of the pressure off of him – he doesn't have to panic over every little thing he sees, he just has to take whatever happens as it comes. And in a way, it's freeing.

Sam Winchester is a genius.

Sam Winchester is _in bed with him._

Oh God.

Kevin feels a heavy throb between his legs. He whimpers, trying not to squirm as his erection stirs back to life. But then Sam's hand cups his face, large and warm and comforting, and Kevin can't help but lean into it, moaning low in his throat.

And then something else touches his face, lightly, on his forehead. Something soft, and tickly, tracing down the line of his nose to his lips, which part on a gasp as Kevin works out what it is – one of the ridiculously large feathers he saw in the drawer earlier. Sam brushes it across his lips, like kissing him without actually kissing him, and Kevin moans again, leaning forward for more. But when he stretches out his neck, Sam takes advantage of it, tracing the feather across it and making him giggle, tickled by it.

Sam waits him out, brushing the feather up and down his throat until his giggles subside. And when he's finally relaxed again, moaning at the teasing touch, Kevin feels Sam's hands go to his robe, parting it.

Kevin's breathing becomes laboured again, and he feels that weak, trembling sensation overwhelm him once more, like it did in the bathroom earlier when he had to open his robe. But it's not panic, or fear, or shyness this time – it's total surrender to sensation, as Sam strokes the feather down his heaving chest, tickling his stomach, and teasing his nipples until Kevin is writhing on the sheets, sure his erection is tenting through the lower half of his robe.

But Kevin doesn't care, not even embarrassed anymore. He wants Sam to see it. He wants Sam to know, and to do something about it, tease him there, touch him – he wants it so bad, he doesn't care if it means he's totally gay.

"Sam!" Kevin chokes out.

"Yeah, okay," Sam breathes, hands going the belt hastily tied around Kevin's waist.

It's messy from there on out. Gone are the slow, controlled strokes against his skin. Kevin's hips buck so hard at the feeling of the feather against his heated flesh, Sam loses his rhythm, brushing the feather anywhere and everywhere he can reach. And when it accidently brushes against his entrance, Kevin bucks so hard, the whole bed shakes.

Kevin is done. He's so ready to blow his load it _hurts_. "Sam, please," he gasps, "I need to come!"

"I know, Kev, I know…" Sam rambles, breathy as well, and Kevin groans at the thought that Sam isn't unaffected by this either.

"Please touch me!" he moans, blindly reaching out and fisting his hand in the material of Sam's shirt.

Sam groans. "I can't, or else you won't technically be a virgin."

"Shit," Kevin hisses. He bats the feather away, but doesn't let go of Sam's shirt, taking his cock in his other hand and pumping it hard.

"Oh _fuck_," Sam groans under his breath. And then there's a mad scramble from Sam's side of the bed, before Kevin feels cold metal on his stomach, Sam positioning the cup Don gave him for the potion.

It doesn't take long. And all it takes is one more heated groan from Sam, watching him touch himself, before he comes, ridiculously and satisfyingly _hard. _

"Wow," Sam breathes afterwards.

"Uh-huh," Kevin gasps, still catching his breath.

As he recovers, he feels Sam using the cup to scoop the rest of his come off his skin, but before Sam has the chance to turn away, Kevin rolls into him, reaching out to pull him close. He still has the blindfold on, and maybe that's making him bold. But it also means he can't see what he's grabbing for, and he ends up finding skin, having somehow reached under the hem of Sam's shirt.

Kevin doesn't miss the way Sam hisses at the touch, or how Sam squirms as his fingers explore a little, soaking up the heat and tightness of muscle he finds.

"This is okay now, right?" Kevin asks softly.

"Um… yes?" Sam answers, shaky and confused.

"Good," Kevin replies, following the heat of Sam's breath, right to his lips.

Sam makes a highly intelligent sounding "Mmmph" noise, before slowly returning the kiss.

Somewhere along the way, Kevin loses his blindfold, and Sam's hands find their way to Kevin's face, cradling him carefully. When they pull apart, they're both breathless again, and Kevin's lips tingle in a way they never do with his girlfriend back home. And despite having just had what was probably the most amazing orgasm of his life, there's still something hungry inside him, desirous for more.

"You're not- This isn't part of the spell, is it?" Sam asks, brows furrowed with uncertainty.

It can't be. Otherwise Kevin wouldn't have had the kind of problems he did earlier that night. In fact, when Kevin thinks back on everything that's happened tonight, all his little reactions and the resulting realizations, he can trace a pattern all the way back to when he first met Sam Winchester. All these months, getting to know Sam, his respect and admiration for Sam growing, becoming something more…

"No," Kevin smiles. "This is all me."

"Okay," Sam grins back, leaning in again…

And that's when Don bangs on the door again. "You two lovebirds all done in there?"

Sam groans, burying his face in Kevin's neck.

Kevin laughs, pulling him up. "Come on, let's go get your brother back."

~

A couple weeks later, Kevin is sitting next to Sam on a park bench in Kansas, eating lunch and watching Dean and his angel make goo-goo eyes at each other over the hood of the Impala.

"So," Kevin says, finishing off his sandwich and dusting the crumbs off his hands, "Now that your brother's back, does that mean I don't have to be a virgin anymore?"

Sam sends him a sideways grin, "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

_~ fin_


End file.
